“I’m a little mad. And a little bit not sure what to do now.”
Emma resisted the urge to tell her what to do. She couldn’t fix this for Harriet, and she shouldn’t. The fact that advice just automatically populated inside Emma’s head was a good indication that this habit might take a while to break.
Harriet shook her head. “So, Elton, he … are you two together now?”
“No.” At least Emma could reassure her of that. “I’m not sure we’re even friends anymore. The whole thing is just a mess.”
Harriet sighed. “I was just thinking today that there might be someone else I hadn’t considered before. Someone kind, and caring, and right here. I know you blame yourself for pointing out the long distance problem between Martin and me, but you didn’t create it. It’s not imaginary. The problem still exists.”
“Who?” Emma couldn’t help asking. “Who hadn’t you considered before?”
Harriet blushed. “George. I watched him take such good care of Betty at the party, and he’s so nice. I think we might get along really well. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome, too. Would that be weird for you, Emma? I know the two of you have been friends for such a long time.”
“George is a good guy,” Emma managed to say. She hadn’t expected this, and yes, it would be incredibly weird for so many reasons.
“What should I do? You know him better than I do.” Harriet leaned forward.
Emma met her eager expression with what she hoped was a good poker face, pressing her lips together and desperately trying to think of what to say. Harriet expected her to giggle and plot with her on how they might get them together. What kind of monster had Emma created? She didn’t want Harriet and George to fall in love. Jealousy raged up like a dragon awoken from a long sleep, creating a mix of guilt and frustration she desperately didn’t want Harriet to see on her face.
The old Emma would have tactfully moved Harriet in another direction from pursuing George, or come up with reasons why he wasn’t right for her, maybe even flat-out invented a girlfriend for him. But Emma had to leave that part of herself behind.
The fact was, Harriet probably was a better match for George. They were both kind and caring, and Harriet’s bubbly personality made a good foil for George’s more subdued one. But Emma should not and definitely would not volunteer to help.
“Harriet, I totally overstepped with Martin and with Elton. I think it’s best if we don’t discuss this.”
“Oh.” Harriet’s face fell, and when Emma didn’t say anything else, she picked up her purse. “I see what you mean. Goodnight, Emma.” With a stiff set to her shoulders, she got up and left. Perhaps in her excitement over George she’d forgotten Emma’s awful confession, or maybe she recognized Emma was the unwilling gatekeeper to getting closer to George, and by refusing to get involved, Emma was keeping her from him. And more than anything, Emma did want to keep Harriet from George.
She suddenly felt cold all over, and her clothes tight and scratchy. Fleeing to her room, she changed into pajamas and washed off her makeup. The circles under her eyes looked deeper than usual, the result of a sleepless night. Tonight would likely be no different.
George had made it more than clear he only wanted to be friends. But could Emma just hand him over to Harriet and wish them joy? No matter what she did or didn’t do, it felt like it would be meddling. Self-improvement shouldn’t be this confusing.
Turning her thoughts to caring for Granddad, she served up the dinner Harriet had left in the crockpot and asked him about his day. They played a quick game of Yahtzee, with Emma doing the scoring—entirely too much math in Emma’s opinion. Then, with him off to bed, she called up Isabella to make sure she was all right. The contractions had stopped, thank goodness.
Emma was relieved for Isabella, but also for herself. She wasn’t ready to face George yet. Telling Harriet had been hard enough, and now there were new problems making things even stickier. She needed to get things straight in her head and fix this mess she’d created, the mess he still didn’t know about. She’d tell him everything, eventually. Right now, she didn’t know if she could bear any more of his disappointment.
Chapter 15♥The Most Unwilling Accomplice of All Time
Harriet gave Emma a strained smile when she saw her the next morning, and Emma’s heart sank. Given time to think about it, Harriet must have fully awakened to what Emma had done, and she probably regretted mentioning George at all.
They didn’t chat as they normally did. Emma didn’t want to force unwanted conversation on her even if she could think of what to say.
Deciding to give Harriet space, Emma gathered up her things, though her first appointment wasn’t for another hour, kissed Granddad on the cheek, said goodbye, and left.
Having already eaten breakfast, she drove without a destination at first before remembering another person she needed to make amends with. She drove toward George’s work, being careful to use the entrance away from the clinic. She didn’t want George knowing she was here.
Weeks ago, she’d gotten Betty’s address from George so she could send an official invitation for the murder mystery dinner party. The thank you cards that came with the kit were still sitting in a drawer by her bed. She’d sent three out, to Austin, Cara, and Nicole. The rest she kept putting off.
It took a little bit of wandering to find building B, and then, counting down the apartments, she found 342 and knocked, making sure to stand back and centered so that Betty, or Jane, or whoever answered could see her through the peephole.
What if itwasJane who answered? Emma owed her an apology too, but maybe mentioning the party would only dredge up something neither of them wanted to revisit. Did Betty want her shortcomings in acting brought up either? Or the fact that Emma had mockingly called her George’s date? What was she even doing here with her lame practiced apology?
At the highest point in Emma’s panic, the door opened, and Betty smiled brightly at her. Emma squared her shoulders. What would George want her to do?
Be a friend. Wasn’t that what he’d been doing when he invited Betty in the first place?
“Hi, Betty. I’m sorry to just drop by like this. I had some time before work this morning and thought of you and wondered how you were doing. We didn’t get to know each other very well at the party, and George thinks so highly of you.” She was babbling, but luckily Betty took pity on her and ushered her inside and over to the tiny kitchen table, getting her a cold bottle of water from the fridge.
“I hope I’m not a bother,” Emma said, glancing around before she sat. Betty had a good sense of organization for such a small space. She’d added floating bookshelves where she kept essentials like mixing bowls and pitchers. They were too ordinary to be mere decoration, but she’d arranged them to look decorative.
